Last Dance
by wren-kt7oz
Summary: The death!fic I thought I'd never write. But the idea came and would not leave me alone.


Brian stood at the door from the foyer. The large room was decked with streamers and full of eighteen year olds playing dress ups, trying to pretend for tonight at least that they were grown up, adult, and ready for anything the world had to offer. Most of them were pretending anyway. Of all of them, there was probably only one who really had the balls and the maturity of a grown man.

He didn't want to be here, didn't know why he was. Except that a voice (was it in his head?) had whispered to him that Justin needed him here; needed him here to share this particular moment in time with him; that some time in the future when the world was a dark and painful and just plain terrifying place, Justin would need the memory of this night to help him through it. Brian had fought it, of course. Had fought the idea of being needed. And the voice had seemed to back off. _Of course, it's your choice_, it had seemed to say. _Always your choice._

And here he was.

Brian's eyes sought Justin and found him in the crowd. He saw Daphne, looking sweet and sexy if you liked pussy, say something, and the young man turned towards him.

Brian walked up to him and smiled. Justin tried so hard then not to scare him away. He kept his greeting calm and casual, and, perversely, Brian immediately wanted more.

Justin looked beautiful tonight. No - he looked what he was, an intelligent, handsome young man with the world ready to fall at his feet. The King of Babylon crown had been only a trivial forerunner of what this young man was going to be, and do, of the worlds he was going to conquer.

Proudly, Brian took his hand and led him to the dance floor.

They danced.

It was wonderful and sexy and sweet and perfect.

Then, laughing, they ran hand in hand to the parking garage.

They stopped at the jeep.

Brian had kissed this wonderful young man on the dance floor, but that had been different. That had been unpremeditated, spontaneous, part of the dance. This was different.

For a moment he hesitated, looking into the shining blue eyes. Then, mindfully, thoughtfully, he pressed his lips to his young lover's.

They were lovers.

Even if he'd never said the words, even if he never did, never would. They loved. They were lovers.

"Later," he said, barely able to get the word past the need in his throat.

"Later," Justin smiled.

Then he turned away.

He never saw the bat, never heard a sound, knew only pain and darkness as he fell to the ground in the deserted parking garage. Empty of all but him and his attacker.

***

Silently, Brian waited by the bed, as the flame that was Justin's life flickered fainter and fainter.

This wasn't fair. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. This wasn't how things were supposed to go for beautiful blond boys with their whole lives before them.

He found himself weeping, and touched the white hand on the sheet in search of some sort of comfort.

_"You chose,"_ the voice (was it in his head?) whispered.

_"You chose to go to him, putting his needs first, even though you were confused and afraid, and that choice brought you to him here, now, when he most needs you."_

And the blue eyes opened.

For a long moment they were filled only with pain and terror, but then they saw Brian and all else was swept away in a flood of love and joy.

Brian stared at him for a moment. Then he smiled at his lover, understanding at last why he was here.

"You ready to go, Sunshine?"

He held out his hand and Justin took it and got up. Together they left the room, dancing a little to music only they heard.

***

Ironically, Michael was at the loft when he heard. He'd come to find Brian to say one final goodbye, and was just about to leave when he heard Daphne's voice on the answering machine. "Brian, where are you? Where did you go? Justin needs you," she sobbed.

Through the tears, Michael managed to make out the name of the hospital. With a heavy heart, he made his way there, dreading what he would find, what he would have to say.

Jennifer was weeping when he finally found them, and the others' faces told the story. "What happened?" he asked.

Somehow between them he made out the pieces, but all he could do was stare at Daphne. "He can't have been," he said. "Brian couldn't have been there."

Deb made some motion to cut him off, but he insisted, "Daphne, it can't have been Brian."

"Of course it was Brian. Justin danced with him. They …" her voice came thickly, stifled in tears, "… they were so beautiful."

Michael forced his mind away from the thing he'd found hanging in the loft, that hadn't been beautiful at all.

"Daphne … Brian can not have gone to Justin's prom tonight."

"Michael, that's enough!" Debbie had found her voice now. "I know that you don't want to …"

"Mom! Please! Listen! Brian … there was an accident. At the loft. He's … I went to say goodbye." He started to fall apart then, and they stared at him. "The ambulance men said he'd been there for hours - probably since last night. That's why he wasn't at my party.

"Brian can't possibly have been at Justin's Prom," Michael wept. "Brian's dead."

***

Emmett, arriving last, found them all stunned and in tears and couldn't understand it.

"What's wrong?" he said. "I saw Teddy's car, and hoped I could find him and get a ride home."

In broken voices they told him.

"But that's crazy," he said. "I saw them."

"What!"

"Where?"

"What do you mean?"

"Downstairs, near admissions. They were together. They were laughing. I've never …" his voice faltered a little, wondering. "I've never seen Brian look so happy. And Justin … " he struggled to find words to fit the image, "Justin was just glowing. They saw me. Justin told me you were still here and I should hurry. Then he said 'later', and they left. They went out … through the door."

Suddenly his mind allowed him to fully take in what he had seen, the two of them, laughing, beautiful, leaving **_through_** the door.

He fainted.

***

No one wanted a media circus. Everyone resolved to keep it among themselves.

But somehow, on Liberty Avenue, rumors began to circulate. It was whispered that the Lord of Liberty Avenue had held off even the demands of Death itself, lingering between this world and the next to claim and protect his little blond twinkie-King.

And for many, many years afterwards, there would be those prepared to swear they'd seen them in their old haunts, Babylon and Woody's and the Liberty Diner, always together, always happy.

And forever young and beautiful.


End file.
